


April 14th

by Jaycee (xxjxxc)



Series: JeanMarco Month 2018 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Apocalypse, Depressing, Depression, Diary/Journal, Established Relationship, Family Loss, Family Member Death, Fatalism, Humanity is doomed, I suppose, M/M, Natural Disasters, Nihilism, Religion, Song Lyrics, Survival, Tragedy, and deaths in the past, be warned if you don't like it, but there's the threat of dying, how does one blend natural journal writing with tension and world building, not graphic at all, religion in transition, sighs in writer, this went from probably depressing to a depress fest, wow what a change in tag mood, writer trying new formats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjxxc/pseuds/Jaycee
Summary: Prompt: Desert / ThunderstormThe term is coming up. People will die. Marco keeps a journal.





	1. April 10th

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this doom metal song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcBJMJlLSts) by the same title. Some of the lyrics can be found reassembled in the verse Marco writes down on April 13th. 
> 
> This is technically a one-shot, but I will post it in chapters because it will be like flipping through Marco's journal. Maybe. 
> 
> If you hadn't read in the tags, I'm also trying something new with this journal format, so please let me know what you think :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The term will reach us soon. 

I woke up to the news this morning. 

It wasn’t a surprise. It happens every year around this time. We’ve been seeing lightning bolts in the sky lately, every now and then, warning us, and the Watch confirmed today that our area will take the first hit in four days. 

April 14th. Our fate is near. 

People will start to pray more often. The term is shaping our religions and beliefs into new traditions. Very few of us have the same background, but we all have the same hopes. 

The first night is the scariest. It brings realisation crashing down, and we all huddle with our loved ones and beg to survive one more time. 

I’ve been through it enough times now that I’m almost numb to it. Fear isn’t real. It doesn’t feel like it will happen again. 

We know how to do this by now. It’s almost routine. We go through the motions without a single thought, as if we’re walking a familiar route home and suddenly we will realise we have already arrived. 

It doesn’t guarantee anything. 

My luck has to run out sooner or later. 

I’ve lost many people to the term. The wreckage has claimed even more. 

But I still have Jean. 

Jean taught me how to survive. After I lost my family, Jean gave me a new reason to. 

I would have never made it this far without him. 

I will protect him with my life. 

I know what we will do today. Jean and I will go out to hunt, bring in as much meat as possible, and spend the rest of the day preserving it.

This is the time where everyone goes into a preparation frenzy. We try to save up all year, but there’s still a long way to go. Short terms are a blessing. Long terms are a damnation and many will die. 

We need provision. We need enough food and water to last us a month, preferably longer, without leaving the house. 

Jean refuses to sit still when the Watch has announced a date. He will work as hard as he can, sleep as little as he can, to help provide for as many families as possible. 

Not everyone is as healthy as us. Larger families are harder to care for. This community has to work together. 

Jean’s mind is truly beautiful. 

I love him. I hope I can still tell him that for a long time.


	2. April 11th

I remember when I first met Jean. 

His eyes were dead; no spirit left for them to reflect. 

Jean had lost everyone at once. It’s a miracle that he lived. 

By the time I met him, he’d traveled for months and learned to focus on survival alone. Nations didn’t exist anymore and communication had long ceased. The world was crumbling beneath our feet. 

Over time, I would learn what had happened to Jean. It would take months and years to hear it all, but I had patience. The things I wanted from him most changed with the seasons, but it was never his life story. 

The Jean I met that day was a skilled, stone-cold killer. 

He was almost impossible to talk to. He was curt, uninterested and uncaring to my story. 

I didn’t see any of that. I had seen him take down a deer. I saw a chance to learn. I needed those skills to help my family and I would make him teach me. 

The Jean I met that day had a heart so broken I didn’t think it could mend. 

The Jean that had lived with his family had only been a boy; young, loud and stubborn. 

He hadn’t hunted for food a day in his life. His father had been a weapons expert. They had hunted for fun. Things changed. Instinct and numb habit kept Jean on his feet. 

Jean came from the southwest border. Before the first term even reached them, their land had been destroyed by scorching summers and freezing winters.

The first term had been milder.

Not in the south. 

Violent storms raged incessantly. Jean’s hometown was at sea. Before anyone knew what was going on, massive floods had wiped out entire cities. 

I learned how Jean lost his family.

He was there when I lost mine.

I remember when Jean first met my mother. Jean didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He had gotten more or less accustomed to gruff interactions with me, but his social skills were still rusty.

I had hoped that he wasn’t entirely buried beneath his defenses. His concern and effort to treat my mother with respect showed me that he wasn’t. 

My mother liked him. It’s a comforting thought.

I remember when Earth wasn’t a wasteland. 

I remember when my life didn’t revolve around escaping death. 

I remember growing up safely in a rural area, an old farm the house that sheltered my parents, my siblings and myself from the seasons. 

I remember seeing that house burnt down, the last of the flames still licking at the wood. 

I remember when people began to call it the term, when people began to think of safety measurements that most wouldn’t be around to see in fruition and in failure.

I remember not wanting to leave when the first relocation had been planned.

I remember deciding to leave anyway, deciding that there where other people I could help, still torn into pieces and resentful that there was no time or resources to properly bury my family.

I remember who it was that caused the change of heart.

I remember when I first kissed Jean, crying as I reached out for him. The raw fear of losing him that same night shattered me.

We didn't part ways on that night. We haven't slept separately for a single night ever since. 

If the term takes us, at least it will take us together.

I have never felt such conflicting emotions as on my first night with Jean. I had no doubt in my mind of what I wanted, but still I was terrified. I knew Jean wanted the same. I knew what Jean meant to me. Silently, I had known that for a while.

It would take a long time before my perspectives changed enough to see what had made me act on it.

I was facing that there really was no time to feel insecure. I couldn't wait for things to work out on their own. People died too fast. I wanted Jean to know that he mattered. I had to tell him.

I was realising that Jean may very well be the last person I come to love like this. He could be the last one I touched like this and I could very well die in his arms. 

I was coming to terms with the fact that he was the last one alive I held so dear. 

I was accepting that if I died that night, I would want it to be in Jean’s arms. 

I still stand by it.

If the storm takes me this term, let it take me in Jean’s arms.


End file.
